


The Best of Times

by DontHaveToSayILY (ElderWhizzerBrown)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roman Empire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Aziraphale and Crowley Through the Ages, F/M, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Historical Accuracy, I did research im so proud, It is now, M/M, Other, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), btw this was a secret santa gift for dvdemoni on tumblr, changes from scene to scene, check them out they're p cool, is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21964867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderWhizzerBrown/pseuds/DontHaveToSayILY
Summary: They fell silent, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other’s company alike. They’d celebrated hundreds of holidays, all over the world, but this was the first time they were together. Well, not close-up together, buttogethertogether. After the world failed to end, they could finally just … exist.And what a sweet existence it was.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	The Best of Times

The concept of seasons and weather was all very fascinating in the abstract for Crawly. The idea of different temperatures and precipitation at various times of the year was utterly genius, and he was sure someone upstairs got a promotion for thinking it up.

Of course, it was a different matter altogether when it actually snowed for the first time.

The first summer had been lovely, especially once Adam and Eve’s baby boy was born. Cain was strong from the moment he wailed coming out of the womb, and Crawly smiled to imagine what things would be in store for the child. He’d spent plenty of time watching the new family that summer, and, being a serpent, he’d enjoyed sunning himself on the hot sand while the sun beat down. 

It was this cold-bloodedness that would be his downfall in the winter, however.

Staring at the foggy sky as the first snow fell was almost reminiscent of the first rain, back in the Beginning, when that kind angel had sheltered him under his wing. The difference was that the rain had felt lovely on his skin, but the snow burned. Well, not burned, but he didn’t have any other words to describe it. It was like fire but cold. He tried to catch one of the snowflakes, only for it to disappear as soon as it touched his hand.

”I tried that already. Your body heat melts the snow.”

Crawly spun around, searching for the source of the voice. It was the angel, Aziraphale, his wings twitching unpleasantly in the cold and his robe pulled tightly around him. Crawly’s face flushed hotly under his smiling gaze.

”I noticed.” He looked back at the sky, trying to hide his face. He hadn’t seen the angel since that first conversation, but he’d thought about him often enough. How kind he’d been, not even hesitant in speaking with a demon, how sweet the expression on his face was. “Least it still looks pretty.”

”That it does.” Aziraphale walked to stand next to Crawly. “Crawly, if I remember correctly?”

Crawly nodded. “Aziraphale?”

”That’d be correct.”

“Satan, that’s a mouthful. You have any nicknames, angel?”

Aziraphale looked a bit ruffled at the suggestion. “Why, of course not.”

Crawly grinned despite himself at the angel’s reaction. “Sorry I asked.”

The snow was really coming down now, and Crawly wondered worriedly what would become of Cain and his parents in this weather. He was about to mention this to the angel, only to realize Aziraphale wasn’t next to him. He glanced around in alarm, relaxing when he spotted him poking a pile of the snow. The angel tentatively scooped up a handful, dropping it soon and shaking his hand free of water.

Crawly came up with a decidedly sinister idea, grabbing a handful of his own and throwing it at the angel. It hit him right between the wings and he tensed up immediately, dropping his snow. “Crawly!” He spun around. “Wicked creature, that was  _ rude! _ ”

Crawly laughed behind his hand. His eyes closed momentarily, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to get him back, nailing him in the face.

Crawly gasped, Aziraphale’s laughter audible. He wiped it from his eyes and opened them to see the angel smiling in a way that was impossibly heart-wrenching. “That’s  _ cold! _ ”

“Now you know how it feels.” Aziraphale’s wings flapped happily and he struggled to compose himself, still giggling. “Are you alright?”

Crawly became aware that he was shivering. “I-it  _ burns. _ ”

“Oh my. Come here, let’s get you warm.” Aziraphale wrapped his wings around the demon, and Crawly sighed at the warmth. 

But he didn’t need some angel’s help, even if it was  _ this _ angel. This felt strange, and- and  _ intimate _ . He shoved the wings off and stepped aside, intending to say something intelligent and hilarious. “Ngk.”  _ Genius, Crawly, that’ll show him. _

Aziraphale understood well enough and drew his wings back. “At least let me make you a fire. It’s my fault for throwing the snow.”

Crawly relented, secretly grateful for it. “I started it.”

“Yes, but I didn’t have to finish it.”

Crawly pulled his robe tight around him as he watched Aziraphale fiddle with some sticks and a rock. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the angel. “This would be quite the time to have a flaming sword, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, quiet, you,” Aziraphale retorted, not unkindly. A smile played on his lips. “There, I’ve got it.” Indeed, a spark leaped from the rock, only to sputter out and die immediately. “Oh dear.”

“Why not just miracle it?”

Aziraphale sighed in defeat and snapped, the pile of sticks instantly ablaze. “I’m afraid Gabriel made sure that all earth-bound angels promised to be scarce with miracles. Nothing frivolous.”

“Well, thank you for wasting a miracle on me,” Crawly said, only half-joking. 

Aziraphale shrugged. He warmed his hands over the fire. “It’s no trouble.” Crawly smiled to himself and sat down by the flame.

—

Aziraphale dearly wished, not for the first time, that any of the other angels stationed on Earth were near him. But, of course, they covered more bases spread out. Can’t have all the angels in one place and leave people exposed to the opposition, after all.

Still, it would have been nice to have someone to celebrate Saturnalia with. 

Last year, when he’d been in Rome, he’d been invited to a celebration with some of the most prominent citizens of the city. It had been quite enjoyable, feasting to his heart's content and getting wine-drunk with senators and slaves, released from their duties for the holiday. 

This year, however, he’d moved out to the countryside after his earth residence burned to the ground. It had been much easier for Gabriel to find a new one in the country, and he  _ was  _ grateful, of course, but he’d very much liked that little place, with its view of the marketplace and friendly neighbors.

He sighed, collapsing on a chair and watching the snow fall through his window. He didn’t feel much like joining in on the celebrations here. It wasn’t quite the same. Call him picky, but Saturnalia just wasn’t as fun without the food and gambling.

A knock was heard from his door, but Aziraphale was just getting comfortable, and he really wasn’t up for a social call at the moment, so he stayed silent and made no move for the door, hoping that whoever it was would think he wasn’t home and go away.

There was another knock about a minute later, this time accompanied by a shout of, “Satan bless it, I know you’re in there!”

Aziraphale startled to his feet. “Crowley?” he called uncertainly. The demon had been tempting some soul down in Africa last Aziraphale remembered, hadn’t he? What was he doing here?

“Yes, angel, it’s me, now let me in before I discorporate!”

Aziraphale miracled the door open and Crowley stepped through with a sigh. His clothing wasn’t black or gray for once, but bright yellow and blue. “ _ Io, Saturnalia _ !” the demon greeted. He gave Aziraphale a quick up and down. “Where’s your synthesis? You do know it’s a holiday?”

“ _ Io, Saturnalia. _ ” He directed the demon towards a chair. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I wasn’t going anywhere, so I didn’t bother to change.”

Crowley sat, setting his bag at his feet, and Aziraphale took the chair opposite him, the same one he’d been occupying before. Crowley looked around him. “And your house isn’t decorated at all? It’s not like you to miss a chance to stuff your face, angel.”

“And it’s not like you to dress so…” Aziraphale searched for a word. “ _ Flamboyantly.”  _

Crowley looked at himself and laughed awkwardly. “Blending in, that’s all.”

He stood up and grabbed his water jug. “Would you like a drink?” 

“Yes, please.”

Aziraphale poured them each a cup. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you in Africa?”

He rolled his eyes and stretched out in his chair, foot tapping relentlessly. “Not much tempting to do in Africa, I’m afraid. Your lot have been making sure of that. I was just ... passing through on my way to see to the Celts and thought I might pop in for a quick chat.” He accepted the cup from Aziraphale.

“And you needed a synthesis for this?” Aziraphale smiled fondly against his better judgment. Crowley may be a demon, but he hadn’t mastered the sin of lying.

“Blending in, angel, I told you. But I figured you’d be doing more for Saturnalia than  _ this _ .” Crowley sat up suddenly and began to dig through his bag.

Aziraphale miracled some wreaths around the room, a simple enough decoration, just to sate the demon. “Not much to do when you’re alone.”

Crowley looked up at him with a strange emotion in his yellow eyes. He shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late to take it back. Soon enough, the demon returned to searching his bag, voice only faltering slightly as he said, “well, you aren’t alone anymore, are you?”

“You’ll have to get going soon, won’t you?” He didn’t say it because he wanted Crowley to leave, of course; The demon was delightfully fun to have around. But he was just that: a  _ demon.  _ Couldn’t very well befriend a demon, could he? What they had … it was a business partnership. They weren’t  _ friends, _ couldn’t be  _ friends. _

Crowley found whatever it was he’d been looking for and pulled it out. His shoulders slouched in disappointment, but you’d never know it by his face. “I suppose you’d be right.”

He seemed to remember the object in his hands and held it out. “Take this, in any case. Since you’re going to have to celebrate alone.”

It was a small wax candle, a  _ cerei _ for the holiday. Aziraphale took it carefully, his heart in his throat. “Oh, oh thank you, Crowley, I wasn’t expecting….” he trailed off, rubbing the wax with his fingertips. 

“S’nothing. Saw them being sold, figured it couldn’t hurt to get you one.” Despite his words, Crowley’s ears turned bright red and he trained his eyes on the floor.

“Either way, that was a kind thing to do.”

“S’not,” Crowley muttered, his ears going brighter still. “I’m  _ evil _ , not  _ kind _ .”

Aziraphale grinned in a decidedly unangelic fashion, quite enjoying the flush spreading over Crowley’s cheeks. He would’ve kept torturing the poor thing a bit longer had Crowley not stood up just then. 

“Gotta get going. Celts to tempt and all. Maybe I’ll make it before Yule ends if I leave now.”

He grabbed his bag and strode for the door. Aziraphale stood too. “Oh. Oh, farewell then. And have a good Yule.”

“I will, thanks, angel.” Crowley nodded goodbye and left. Aziraphale stared at the door for a while after it shut, before dropping down in his chair again and fidgeting with the  _ cerei. _

It would be a fine time to have another angel stationed nearby.

—

Crowley tried not to pace as she waited in St James park for the angel to show up. Families and couples walking by gave her curious looks, a well-dressed woman standing alone in the park on Christmas Eve night, glancing at her pocket watch every so often. She scowled at them and they moved on in a hurry.

Where was he? It was five minutes after the time they’d set, and it wasn’t like Aziraphale to be late. She finally gave in and began pacing angrily, although she couldn’t say who she was angry at. It certainly wasn’t the angel, she could never be angry at him.

“Crowley, dear!” 

Her face broke out into a smile as she turned around. There he was, jogging towards Crowley with very little regard for how he appeared to the pedestrians, who seemed to speed up just a tad as to move past the odd couple - not that they  _ were _ a couple, she reminded herself. Business associates.  _ Friends _ , hopefully, although Aziraphale wasn’t especially fond of the word.

Crowley remembered herself just in time as he reached her, wiping the grin from her face and turning around, maintaining a respectable distance. “Glad you could make it, angel. What kept you?”

“Traffic, my dear.” He shook his head. “It was hardly easy for the taxi driver to navigate this crowd.” There were people everywhere. Of course there were, it was Christmas Eve, after all, even if by looking at the muddy brown snow and dark sky, you’d never know it. 

It wasn’t very demonic of her, but Crowley had always enjoyed Christmas. It had been more acceptable before God got tied up with the whole matter, back when the winter celebrations revolved around pagan deities. She’d been able to pass that off as temptation in her reports to head office, but now it only counted if she ruined someone else’s Christmas, which would have ruined hers. Terribly inconvenient.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” she said.

Aziraphale put up a finger as if to say ‘one moment’. He reached into his coat pocket and rummaged around a bit. “Since it’s Christmas Eve, I thought I might give you a present. Just a thank you, for your … correspondence, I suppose.”

Crowley felt her cheeks run hot and looked away hurriedly. She never felt less demonic than when she was around the angel. He brought out some softer side of her, left over from before she Fell. It was humiliating.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing, Crowley. Just a little something I had on hand.” He pulled something out, a matchbox and a pipe. “Here you are, dear.”

Her mouth went dry and she swallowed before grabbing it. She was immensely grateful for the sunglasses shielding her emotions from the angel’s sight. “A pipe?”

“Every respectable gentleman has …” he trailed off. “I mean, of course you’re not a  _ gentleman _ at the moment, but if you were to change it up sometime …”

“I have no plans to ‘change it up’, but thank you, angel.” She rubbed the side, finding an engraving, an A and C wound together. “What’s this?”

He didn’t have to look to know what she was asking. “It represents the Arrangement. You and I.”

A fire brighter then the one the pipe would soon hold started in her chest. “Oh.” 

She put it between her teeth, attempting to strike a match, just to distract herself from the emotions swirling in her head. How did these matches work again? This one must be defective; it wouldn’t light.

Aziraphale took the match from her hands. “Here let me.” He struck it effortlessly and lit her pipe. Crowley coughed from the smoke initially, but eventually got the hang of it. 

She pulled the pipe from her mouth to talk, wondering if she was doing a good job copying the gentlemen she’d seen smoke. (She wasn’t). “What was the business you called me here to discuss?” she said, hoping to change to a subject that wouldn’t draw more blush from her stupid corporation. 

“Oh,  _ that.” _

“Yes,  _ that _ , angel, why am I here?”

The principality looked sheepishly at his feet. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come if I didn’t say it was business, and I wanted to give you  _ something _ .”

Crowley stared at him in disbelief before laughing outright. “ _ That _ was the urgent business which required three separate letters to set up a meeting for?  _ That’s  _ why you made me come all the way out to St James in  _ this _ crowd?”

Aziraphale huffed in frustration at Crowley’s laughter. “It’s not  _ funny.” _

Crowley just kept on laughing. 

“Wicked old serpent, you,” he muttered, with just a touch of affection. “And on Christmas Eve, as well.”

They both when silent and watched the other people in the park “Not that it much looks like Christmas without the snow,” he remarked to himself.

In a moment of giddiness, Crowley snapped, and it started to snow lightly. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, turning to her. “Was that you?”

“”F course not, angel. I don’t control the weather.” Still, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face, and the angel saw.

He smirked and jostled her with his elbow. “Whoever did it must be  _ very _ good, I imagine.”

“Mhmm.” Her face burned up yet again.

“To give all those children proper snow for Christmas, why, what a Blessing, even.”

“I don’t believe they meant it for the children,” Crowley muttered. “Perhaps it was for some idiotic angel.”

He laughed. “Yes, perhaps it was.”

—

Aziraphale sighed as the final customer left, flipping the sign in the window to “closed”. He glanced around for Crowley, attempting to remember where he’d gone. Ah yes, he’d headed into the back to “get some peace and quiet, for Someone’s sake”. The angel locked the door and went into the back.

Crowley was asleep on the couch in the back of the bookshop, curled up in a blanket next to the unlit fireplace. His hair, which he’d been growing out recently, was flung out across the cushions, a single strand having found its way inside his mouth. Aziraphale smiled affectionately and brushed the hair off of the couch so he could sit, placing a kiss on the demon’s forehead.

The redhead’s eyes peeked open and he grumbled at being disturbed. “Le’ me ‘lone.”

“Would you like some hot chocolate, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley nodded, shoving his face into the pillow. He muttered something that sounded like, “could you add whipped cream?”

“Of course. While I’m gone, would you mind turning up the fire?”

He didn’t wait for a response, trusting Crowley had heard. He made the hot chocolate the old fashioned way, no miracles, because there was really nothing like food and drinks made by hand. Something tasted different when you did it yourself.

When he got back, Aziraphale saw that Crowley was sitting up, his knees drawn to his chest, and the fire was blazing. “How was your nap?”

“Good.” Crowley yawned. He took the hot chocolate from Aziraphale’s hands. “Thanks, angel.”

Aziraphale sat next to Crowley and leaned his head on his shoulder. “How was your nap, love?”

Crowley flinched like he always did whenever Aziraphale called him the pet name.  _ Poor thing,  _ he thought, remembering the first time he’d called the demon “love” and how he’d miracled out of the room and gone missing for a week. (Aziraphale had later learned that he’d spent the time mostly sleeping, only waking to tend to his plants) Crowley hadn’t experienced this sort of affection since he Fell, the angel didn’t think, and so he made sure to shower him with it. “Good. Yeah, was nice.”

They fell silent, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other’s company alike. They’d celebrated hundreds of holidays, all over the world, but this was the first time they were together. Well, not  _ close-up together,  _ but  _ together  _ together _.  _ After the world failed to end, they could finally just … exist. 

And what a sweet existence it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed! This is basically my first time writing these characters, so constructive criticism is always appreciated!


End file.
